A Royal Mess
by cherryflesh
Summary: Captain Sean Renard's dangerous obsession with Juliette and hers with him is mounting. How will they cope with it? Spoilers up until Season 2, episode 10. Everything after that will not follow the show with any particular accuracy.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

So, this is the beginning of a Renard/Juliette fanfic I've been working on. It will likely be heavy on the smutty stuff. I like Juliette as a character and I would like to give her a chance to take a little more action. I can't really pair her with Renard without letting her be the worthy opponent (did I say opponent? I meant lover...or ally... or something) that we know he, as the resident manipulative Royal, needs to keep him in line. Please read and review if you would like to see more!

* * *

Life was complicated, Juliette mused as the stranger that supposedly has been her boyfriend for the past six years leaned in for what she thought was a kiss only to have him fish his keys out of a bowl on the counter. Her cringe-and-dodge movement earned her a dark look before he said a terse goodbye and left the house.

_Yeah. Life is complicated and awkward. Alright, regroup!_

For the thousand time she wondered how the love of your life could be erased from your memory so completely. It seemed impossible, and yet here they were. Him, sad and frustrated (and she had a feeling his patience was wearing thin.) and her, so far utterly confused. And to make matters worse (so much worse) she had developed feelings for another man, which seemed almost as unlikely as forgetting her lover.

She could forgive herself for that. Feelings happen. She could even give herself a break from constantly marinating herself in guilt over the daily fantasies of Nick's _boss_ of all people throwing her down and… well…

Her face colored and she rubbed her nose, grimacing to herself. _No._

But she couldn't ignore the fact that she had let him kiss her. Captain Sean Renard had been sweet enough to be worried about her and Nick, and she had made a complete fool of herself and he had touched her hand and- well, she had to get away. The attraction was as strong as it was disturbing. Their eyes met and she would feel drunk and nervous and excited and her mind would spend hours replaying that particular moment all day. When his fingers briefly touched hers she grew wet in a rush, clamping her knees shut while summoning every ounce of self-control she had.

Later he had dropped by to return her sun glasses, and by then she had figured out that the obsession was a two-way street. He was about to leave, then there was this fateful hesitation, this window of opportunity during which she could have given him a polite smile and shut the door and didn't, during which this sickening _hope _rose in her chest, all tingly anticipation, and when he leaned in to kiss her…

She remembered the fraction of a second of dry common sense, just knowing that it couldn't possibly be as good as in her fevered dreams.

But it was.

A memory stirred and she remembered the same firm pressure, just before she opened her eyes at the hospital. She remembered a feeling of darkness, cold and silent, then a gentle coaxing and a tugging sensation as if floating to the surface. Her lips were warm and there was a lingering presence, a faint smell of cologne and something unique, something that teased and tempted her to go look… if she hadn't been so weak she would have.

She told him. He didn't deny it, only searched her face with a calculating look, and apparently seeing nothing that discouraged him, captured her lips in another kiss. This time harder, more insistent.

In that moment, she was helpless.

_Possessed by him. Obsessed by him. Belonging to him…_

And it terrified her. So she broke away and closed the door, sinking to the floor when her legs simply refused to carry her further away.

The only sensible thing at this point would be to break it off completely, go cold turkey on this insanity and focus on Nick. With a supreme effort she managed to push the memories away and grab an apple, cutting it in even slices. _Nick… _she nibbled on one slice, letting her thoughts rest comfortably on the boyishly handsome man living in her house. Kind. Idealistic.

She stopped chewing as a realisation hit her. Nick was exactly the kind of man she would have fallen for six years ago. He was essentially her dream man. It made perfect sense that she had fallen head over heels with him. But if they had met now… if they had to build their relationship from scratch… would she still fall in love? She wasn't the same person that she had been six years ago. Neither, she suspected, was he. So where did that leave them?

She looked down at the plate of apple slices. They were slowly turning brown and the moist, half-eated slice had wrinkled her fingertips. How long had she been standing there?

* * *

To say that Captain Renard was displeased was an understatement. For the first time in his meticulously planned life his self-control was crumbling. Logically he knew that the root of all this was Adalind, but it wasn't the clingy ice queen that invaded his every waking and sleeping thought. No, it was a series of genuine smiles, soft bite-able lips and warm eyes that became more than an obsession – it was a mounting craving that had to be satisfied. But the image of Juliette was fleeting, elusive, maddening… and he found that he had to remind himself several times a day that she was not to blame. That he couldn't rightly punish her for his suffering, as she had no active part in it.

He twirled a pen between his fingers. One turn, two, three, four…

There was something more going on here. Whereas Adalind would absolutely betray him, Catherine was much too old-fashioned to do so. More importantly, she would have known that in her daughters absence, she herself would be facing the consequences of fucking with a Royal. She would have foreseen this problem.

He licked his dry lips, trying to force his thoughts in line. This obsession had outgrown itself – it was more than fever dreams, more than hourly fantasies about pushing the delectable redhead up against the wall and force her to take every inch of him into her wet heat…

He took a deep breath, violently shoving the unwanted thoughts to the side. What was he thinking about? Oh yes… it was more than that. He was driven by an urge to protect her, to provide for her. The very thought of her living in the same house as another male made him want to kill. The thought of her in danger sent flares of anxiety through him so strong he drove his fingernails into his palm.

_Nick can't protect her. She is mine by right._

Where did that thought come from? What's more, never had his Hexenbiest instincts been more intense or ferocious. Never before had he been forced to quell them several times a day.

A cracking noise made him look down. The pen had snapped in two and black ink trickled between his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Thank you for all the kind words! Sadly there's no Renard in this particular chapter, but this is an important build-up. Trust me, the next chapter will be Renard-heavy. ;)Please read, enjoy & review (reviews is the fuel to my writing machine)! 3 3 3

* * *

Juliette was working, or at least pretending to. She made all the movements, turned the sheets of the pile of paperwork (which has reached dangerous new heights during her time in the hospital), and scribbled the diagnoses and treatments on each of the cases awaiting the archive. She remembered each of them well, and only had to go back to check her notes on a few occasions. It was easy and it kept her hands occupied and her conscience silent. But her thoughts wandered... sought out the gaps in her memory that revealed that there was something missing, prodded it again and again like a tongue in the gap of a missing tooth.

She knew what was missing. And it drove her insane that she couldn't remember him. If she could only do that it would make her life so simple.

The obsession with Sean had to be a trick of light, some sort of psychological way to deal with the loss of Nick and their life together...

_Where did all the love go? Well, I placed it somewhere else..._

She glanced down at the paper and her lips parted. Instead of the dog with the constant urinary infection and all the little details his worried owner had supplied her with, was one name written over and over again. Not mindlessly scrawled but perfectly neatly in even lines.

_Sean Renard._

In a sudden violent movement she struck out at the paper, swiping at it so that it slid of the desk and down unto the floor. So impotently gently was the landing that she snarled and struck out again, this time sending the entire pile to the floor in a satisfying cascade of rustling papers.

In moments like that there are two choices; either you have to continue marching forward, holding on to your anger like a lifeline, or you break down and cry. To Juliette the second alternative was not an option. She got up, grabbed her coat and left the house, determined to walk off the frustration.

Five blocks later and well into a nearby park her nerves had settled a little and she was able to consider the situation more rationally. She needed to talk to somebody. It was second opinion time. To her horror she found that her first instinct was to run to Sean.

_On first name basis now, are we?_

It wasn't faith or even hope, just a deeply set knowledge that he could guide her rightly, that his advice would be sensible.

_And you base this on what, exactly?_

The dry little voice of common sense questioned her instincts, insisted that her judgment had been compromised. Sean was not a close friend, she barely knew him, so why trust him? Why give him so much? She had no answer to give herself, no sound motivation, so however much it hurt her (and it physically made the inside of her chest burn), she mentally crossed him off her list. Who else could she talk to? Monroe? No, that wouldn't be right. He was Nick's friend. But what other choice was there? Nick was certainly not an alternative. He had grown tense and impatient, and she could feel that something was wrong. He was tired of waiting and she was exhausted from trying. The situation wasn't fair for any of them.

Halfway between their house and the city she stopped, realising how far she had walked. What was it the latino woman had told her?

_I have to choose._

She remembered stubbornly insisting that she had no intention of choosing anybody and she recalled the look of pity on the woman's face.

_Am I going to end up hurting people more by not choosing? It's not fair, but what if I have to? What are my alternatives? Can I really make a decision if I can't remember a man that I have loved for six years? _

"Hey Juliette!" Quick steps behind her, catching up. She turned and looked into the smiling face of Adalind. "Hi," the blonde said with a little wave of her fingers. "Wow... it feels like a hundred years ago." The broad grin somehow widened further and Juliette shivered.

"Hi," she replied, something keeping her from hugging the other woman - on all other occasions, Juliette was a hugger. She managed a smile. "Yeah. A hundred years..." She couldn't get rid of the feeling that Adalind was having a laugh at her expense. Juliette's fingers sought out the scratches on the back of her hand, absentmindedly tracing the lingering scars.

"How have you been?" Adalind tilted her head to the side, the corners of her mouth curling into another smile that made Juliette's skin crawl. She told herself that she was being unfair and managed a smile in return.

"Oh good. Same old, you know," she lied and detected a hint of hesitation on the blonde's face.

"I see… that's great! Same old is good news if you're living the dream, isn't it?" Adalind sighed. "You and Nick are such a cute couple."

"Yeah…" Juliette nodded and chewed on her bottom lip, trying to quell the need to confide in somebody. "People keep telling me that." Adalind waited but shrugged when Juliette didn't elaborate. For a moment the only sound was the gentle rustling of the leaves as the wind rocked the branched above.

"I brought some coffee, " Adalind said suddenly, opening a metal thermos. "I love drinking coffee in the park… would you like some?" She took two paper cups from her purse and filled one with dark liquid. Juliette glanced down at the offered mug. Some coffee _would_ be nice…

"No thanks," she replied, instantly regretting it when the savory aroma wafted over. Still, there was something in her firmly refusing. "I have to go home." Of course, home didn't feel like home anymore. The unbidded thought made her tired and sad but she kept the smile up. "Have a nice walk!" With that she started to leave, barely registering that Adalind's smile faltered.

"My, you do like to do things the hard way, don't you?"

Juliette frowned at the cold words and turned around. Immediately when Adalind came into her line of vision the woman held her hand out in front of her mouth, palm up, and blew a cloud of shimmering gray powder in her face. Juliette staggered back, coughing and rubbing her stinging eyes.

"What the hell?" She rubbed her face with her sleeves, wiping the dust away even as she was blinking frantically to get it out of her eyes. "What was that?" A moment later the stinging turned into burning and she yelled. A swift kick to the back of her knee sent her to the ground and she struggled to get back up. The trees around her spun, what little she saw of them, and vertigo hit her full force until she couldn't tell up from down. Laying on the ground felt oddly like leaning against a wall and she clung to it, gasping for air.

"Night night," she heard from somewhere above her (on her side?) and then everything turned blissfully black.

When she awoke the afternoon sun hung low and the shadows of the trees stretched long on the ground. She sat up carefully, mentally taking inventory of her body and counting her limbs. She felt… fine. A little stiff from laying on the ground, but fine. She got up and made her way home, running the incident over and over in her head. Nick had been right about Adalind… she was dangerous, or at the very least unstable. The accidental cat scratch suddenly seemed to be something far more sinister.

Nick met her in the hallway and the grave look on his face chased all thoughts of Adalind from Juliette's mind.

"We have to talk," he said. She nodded, mouth dry. They sat down opposite each other on the couch and he talked. He talked about memories of them, memories that brought tears to his eyes and meant nothing to her. The blank deadness inside her had never felt more difficult to bear. And it was clearly frustrating for him. After countless blank looks from her he ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. "I can't do this anymore." It was barely above a whisper, but she heard it.

"I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Not much else was said. In the end he wanted to move out but she stopped him and insisted on moving out herself. She called a friend, who had a one room apartment for business trips. Right now it was empty and she gratefully accepted the offer to rent it for a few months.

It was well past midnight when she sank down on the edge of her new bed, overnight duffell bag on the floor. She rubbed her itching eyes and wondered what she would do now. At least, she decided, it could wait until morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**  
Hi there, friends! Here's a chapter with an extra helping of pure graphic smut, and it looks like the next chapter is just going to continue on that theme... ahem... royals and their obsessions, eh? What's more, I think somebody needs to get Juliette a handbook on Hexenbiest Mating Rituals. Or perhaps she could just read Kama Sutra by Stephen King, or something. ANYway, sharp learning curves ahead!

**huangjinyuer:** I'm so glad I'm not the only one rooting for these two! Adalind is indeed indeed a nasty piece of work. Hell hath no fury like a neutered and scorned Hexenbiest... ;)

**D Squirrel:** Thank you! I'm happy that you like my take on Juliette. She already seems like a BAMF to me ("No, it's time for YOU to scream!") and she doesn't get nearly enough credit for it. She's one hell of a lady, that one. Adalind should be careful, especially if Juliette ever finds out... oh, and that thing she did? I hope that will make the story more interesting. ;)

**L Boyd:** Thanks! I think she's already worthy of his obession, but it sure is fun to see him stumble after a woman who is far from his usual hunting grounds so to speak. It's also fun times to play with any Hexenbiest instincts that may be dormant...who knows, with him being halfbreed and all. We've never seen any male Hexenbiests on the show, so it's an interesting thought! :)

**Red:** Right? I think so too! It's just great to see his famous self-control slipping and I think he's very unused to feel possessive of anyone. Use-and-discard has been his usual approach, I think. Up until now! ;)

**Martini:** Coming right up! :D

Please** Read & Review** if you want more! Reviews are love (and rainbows and unicorn and freshly baked cookies!)

* * *

Sean Renard watched Nick from his office window, noting the dark circles around his eyes and the way he was snapping at Hank. Something was clearly wrong with his Grimm and his instincts told him that it had to do with Juliette. Had something happened the night before? Where was she now and was she upset? In need of consolation? He made an effort and managed to push the thought away. It didn't matter. _She_ didn't matter. The important thing was his plans and having an distraught and potentially unbalanced Grimm was a wild card that he couldn't afford to keep in his deck. He shifted and opened the door.

"Nick? In my office." He inclined his head and Nick followed, Hank smirking behind his back, shaking his head. Renard closed the door behind him and for a moment neither of them spoke. "You seem upset. Is anything wrong?" Renard said when Nick wouldn't meet his gaze. Nick glanced up at him, then turned away.

"No sir. I'm fine," he replied, but his voice was hollow and Renard waited. A few moments passed then Nick ran his fingers through his hair. "Juliette and I broke up." Renard's chest tightened with want and he resented it. He cleared his throat.

"Ah. Well, if you had an argument… all I'm saying is that you might just need some time apart." The words burned his throat.

"No." Nick shook his head and paced, hands on his hips. "It's for good, I just- I just couldn't do it anymore. It's too hard." The relief Renard felt was so strong he exhaled sharply, earning him a strange look from Nick. He ran his hand over his mouth, annoyed with himself for his twisted priorities.

"Will you be okay?" He forced himself to focus on the matter of most importance. "Maybe you need to take a few days off."

"I'll be fine. I think I really need to focus on my work now." Nick's jaw was set, his eyes were fired with determination.

_Good._

When Nick moved towards the door, Renard wanted to stop him and question him about every detail from the previous night. What did they say? What was their current arrangement? Would Nick move out? He gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit down behind his desk. The important thing, he reminded himself, was that his Grimm would be able to carry on his work.

_And now Juliette is free for the taking…_

No. It was still inappropriate, bordering on socially obscene. And Portland's Grimm would be lost to him, which was unacceptable. And still he was dialing her number on his cell phone. It took three long signals before she picked up.

"Hello?"

"It's me. What happened yesterday night?" He heard her sigh and the apprehension in her voice cut him. His gut instinct wanted her curled up in his arms.

"Nick and I broke up," she said shortly, but he detected a slight tremble in her voice. For him or for Nick?

"How do you feel?" The possibility of her pining after Nick made his self-control slip and his skin rippled. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

"Nothing, I guess… I should be devastated, but I feel nothing. I moved out today." He heard her swallow. It shouldn't make a difference – her lack of grief shouldn't make a difference, but it did. Right then and there something shifted in him, a closed door opened an inch or two.

"Listen. We need to talk. Could we meet up after work?"

"Sure…" He could hear the hesitation in her voice and held his breath. "Why don't you, um, why don't you come over tonight?"

"That works. See you then." They said goodbye and he hung up. Her voice remained in his mind like a song one can't get out of ones head. In his mind's eye he could see her plump lips moving and in the next instant he saw them, _felt_ them wrapped around his cock. He dug his nails into the side of his desk, pretending to stare at his computer screen when he really saw her kneeling in front of him, a princess dutifully thanking her prince for waking her… he blinked the vision away, rubbing his forehead.

_I have to have her. Time's up, there's no room left for an alternative solution. _

In a sense it was a relief.

* * *

It took Juliette the entire day, but as the sun set she had managed to make the small apartment feel more like home. Every now and then she paused and rubbed her eyes, concerned that they were still stinging. Sean's visit was something that she both dreaded and anticipated. Technically, she was free to date whoever she chose to, but she found her obsession with him disconcerting. Every time she met him she felt helpless to resist and the only way she seemed to be able to do it is to get away from him. Which might be awkward since she had now invited him over.

She rubbed her eyes. For the third time she went into the bathroom and washed them. _Probably an allergic reaction._ She studied them in the mirror but there was no redness or swelling so she shrugged and went outside. She chewed on her lip and hesitated, but in the end she text Sean her new address.

No longer than an hour later the doorbell rang and she went to answer it. Outside Sean stood and in his arms he held a cellophane-wrapped basket, which he offered to her.

"A little house-warming present," he said and she grinned back.

"Thank you!" She stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in before walking to the kitchen. Peeking through the cellophane she made a happy noise. "How did you know I love cheese?"

"Lucky guess?" Sean entered the kitchen and she forgot what she was going to say, and even what they were talking about; he hadn't just taken off his coat, but also the jacket beneath and she could see the muscles moving beneath his shirt. Mouth dry, she fingered the rustling cellophane nervously. "Here, let me help you," he said, leaning over to undo the ribbon holding the cellophane together. His fingers brushed against hers and her physical reaction was so strong she pulled her hands away as if burned. It was too much, too intense and she didn't know what to make of it.

He caught her hands in his as she pulled them away and frowned, as if surprised by his own actions. Then he slowly brought them to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to say something, but it passed and she gently pulled her hands free.

"I-I'll get us some wine." She hurried past him. _Oh yes, wine… _the dry voice of common sense commented. _That's just what you both need. Less inhibitions. _She uncorked the flask with one brisk movement, pouring each of them a glass of red. He accepted his with a graceful nod, still studying her with his pale eyes. She sipped hers and decided to break the silence. "Alright. Um. I don't know what this…" She gestured between them. "… is, but we barely know each other. Surely you can see how strange this is?" She searched his face for confirmation, any sign that she wasn't going crazy, and found an expressionless mask with traces of sympathy. _Poker face_, she realised. _He's definitely got the best poker face I've ever seen. _A flare of admiration so hot that she had to hide her smile behind her glass. _Sympathy. He knows something I don't._ She put her glass down as her smile faltered.

"I agree that it is strange," he said, slowly turning the wine glass in his hand. "but that doesn't make it bad." He tilted his head, still watching her. She waited for him to continue, thoughts racing.

* * *

Renard paused, sipping his wine; it was really a good wine, he was pleased by her good taste. Since he had decided to yield to the temptation, he was now focused on securing his prize – a task which was a lot more pleasant than simply denying himself. Obstacles unfortunately included the traits he most admired about her, like her intelligence. Evidence kept lining up and she knew that something was not right. Due to the otherworldly nature of the issue, she would never suspect the truth, and he considered himself lucky that she didn't suspect him directly.

But he could see in her face that she was beginning to. Somehow she sensed that he had information that he wasn't sharing with her, and that just wouldn't do. But while her mind worked against him, her body and heart wanted to be convinced. And there was nothing easier to manipulate than a heart that wanted to be fooled.

"I think it's psychological," she said suddenly, her fingertips tapping a nervous staccato against the rim of the glass. "I mean, it can't be normal to just forget one person completely… I don't understand it yet, but my feelings for you might be some sort of – of displacement."

_Not a half-bad theory, _he mused. But she held up Nick as some sort of shield between them, and he resented it. Some primal instinct demanded Nick's death, and he fought it, forcing his thoughts back to the distressed redhead.

"It might be, but I don't believe it is," he said, careful to keep his voice even. "Perhaps it's wrong of me to tell you this, but since you are not together anymore… he told me that you two have had problems for quite some time."

"Oh." She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and his mind blanked for a moment. "I see… " She rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. "Maybe I'm reading too much into this…"

"Look," he said, moving to her side and placing a hand at the small of her back. "Why don't we sit down and just talk-" He trailed off, looking down at her, at her parted lips and the helpless expression on her face. She made a small sound and he inhaled sharply at the scent of arousal. Acute sense of smell had never been one of his more… special… traits, but for some reason her scent was as clear to him as anything visual. Her body called to him and he was helpless not to obey. He wanted to simply press her face down on the counter, pull her pants down and mount her from behind. And he had a feeling she wouldn't put up a fight. But afterwards… no, he had to do it right. Had to get her as addicted to him as he was to her.

He leaned in to kiss her and she made this sound again, as if she was trying to resist and couldn't. His became more forceful and she shook, her mouth still closed against his. _Yield to me, woman!_ And from another part of him, a slithering hiss; _Surrender all of yourself…_

With a supreme effort he pulled back, loosening his hard grip on her arms, rubbing his thumbs in soothing motions. He gently licked the seam of her lips until they parted and he wasted no time deepening the kiss. Her hands roamed over his chest, and he thought it would burst by the sheer force of his heartbeat. There was an urgency to their movements, a desperation and everything became a series of snapshots. He pulled up her top and dragged his tongue over a stiff nipple, nearly losing his seed at the sounds she made.

_Not enough, need to taste more of her…_

He had lost himself in fantasies over her countless times, spilled into his hands thinking about penetrating her with his tongue, his cock. About teasing her mercilessly until she begged him to fill her.

Now, as he eased her jeans down her hips and behind, he caught sight of her face and forced himself to slow down. Behind her lust-filled anguish lurked real fear. _Loss of control._ He understood and making a decision, he leaned in to trace the pretty curve of her ear with her lips.

"Trust me," he whispered, a soft demand that she nonetheless obeyed and when his hand slipped inside her underpants her thighs parted. Sliding between the wet folds, his fingers found what they were searching for and she buried her face in his shoulder as her hips bucked in response. He strained to hear the mumbled words against his shoulder and caught stray words of pleading.

"Yesyesyes… oh, please..!"

He was about to force her to look at him, hungry for that vulnerable moment of complete surrender, wanting to see that naked look on her face as she came… but then her hands undid his belt and slid down his pants. He groaned when she gripped him, squeezed him and moved… her exploration would be his undoing and he pushed her quickly over the edge before joining her with a savage grunt.

They stood like that for awhile until he gently pulled his hand out of her pants, tasting the slick fingers behind her back. _Delicious._

She let go of him too and he could sense the shame rolling off her, along with a strong hint of arousal. He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head while wiping her fingers with a piece of paper from the counter. When she tried to move away he tightened his grip and smiled into her hair.

"We're not done," he told her, and was pleased at her answering shiver.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **Thank you for your comments! This chapter is admittedly 99.9% smut... basically a continuation of the previous chapter. Bear with me, more plot-related stuff coming up! Every player in this story has aces in their sleeves... But **please read and review - it makes my day! **

* * *

Juliette held unto Renard, trying to get her bearings. _How did this happen?! How did we end up with our hands down each other's pants?!_ Embarrassment and shame made her speechless and the throbbing ache between her thighs was a horrible reminder of their behavior. She wondered how Renard could seem so collected, so in control when she barely knew up from down.

"We're not done," he whispered when she tried to pull away and his voice made her shiver. She mentally grasped for some shreds of her self-control.

"I-I think we are." She licked her dry lips, regretting her words instantly but steeled herself. He tensed against her. "I mean, what we just did was… so very wrong… on so many levels…" He stroked her back in slow, calming circles and she made no more move to pull out of their embrace. It felt nice and she was reluctant to leave the warm, safe feeling… even if it was an illusion.

"Why do you say that?" And there it was again: a completely reasonable question. So why was it that she couldn't answer it? How could she explain that her behavior was completely alien to her, and that it frightened her. Growing up, she hadn't exactly been a saint, but dating-wise she hadn't been a classic three-day-breed; she had always liked to take things a bit slow and getting to know the person. Once she felt comfortable with him she was by no means prudish, being very physical in showing her affections. _But stroking each other off in the kitchen like a couple of horny teenagers?_ It was just too much.

"This isn't me." She closed her eyes, still unwilling to pull away. He was silent for a moment, then:

"I understand. This isn't me either." He kissed her hair and she sighed. "You think this is how I usually behave?" He chuckled. "Believe me, I understand this is pretty unusual behavior for both of us." He leaned back to look at her, brushing away a strand of her hair. She was relieved to see he was smiling and managed a shaky on in return. "I hope you don't think less of me for it." She shook her head.

"No. It's just… I've felt vulnerable since I woke up from the coma because I _know_ there's something wrong with me, and this doesn't make it any better – I can't control myself when you-" She snapped her mouth shut, feeling her face heat up as she looked away.

"I can't control myself around you either," he said, a grin tugging at his lips. He leaned in close and his next words were a heated whisper against her ear. "Do you want to take it slow?" He was already growing hard against her stomach, and the feeling provoked an answering wetness between her thighs. Her fingers curled, grasping his shirt as her breath quickened. She found herself squirming, rubbing her thighs together as she fought a losing battle against herself.

"No…" she finally managed, and felt him exhale. Had he been holding his breath? She tilted her head up, relieved when his lips met hers in a hard kiss. Every part of her answered the unspoken demand and she had to fight back an instinct to part her legs for him, offer herself up. _No no, this is not me._ She made a small sound and rubbed herself against him, the delicious friction making her nipples ache. _This isn't right. _It felt exactly right.

Strong fingers splayed over her behind and the firm grip slid down to hoist her up on the counter with his narrow hips between her legs. At some point her pants had come off; for the life of her she couldn't figure out when, but to be fair she didn't make an effort. His heavy erection ground against her clitoris through her now soaked panties and her hips bucked. She inhaled sharply and he groaned, eyes locked as he ground his hips against hers again. And again. And one more time.

"W-wait!" She tried to close her legs which didn't quite work with him between them, and she stared helplessly into his pale eyes. Eyes that regarded her with heated intent.

"Are you close?" he murmured, resuming a leisurly motion, sliding his cock back and forth over her sensitive spot. She nodded, desperate for him to stop, to go on, to not have her exposed and helpless on the kitchen counter, but still needing him so much she could weep. "Then come for me." Her lips parted and she shook her head in denial even as some deep-seated part of her wanted to obey. Looking into his eyes she knew he would show no mercy, so she leaned up on shaky arms and kissed his jaw, his lips, his neck… wherever she could reach.

"Please," she pleaded between kisses. "Not here…" She licked her lips, hiding her face against his shoulder. "Bed," she whispered. She glanced up and caught a glimpse of his jaw muscles moving as he ground his teeth. His hands landed once again on her ass, holding her firmly against him as he straightened up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his shoulders as he carried her through the apartment. It wasn't a big place and the bedroom was very obviously located.

* * *

It took every shred of self-control for Renard to move them to the bedroom. He felt the skin of his face ripple as he stepped into the darkness of the bedroom, fighting back violent Hexebiest instincts that had been no problem for him during all previous sexual encounters. Partly because many of them had been with female Hexenbiests who had no problem catering to his more sadistic urges, but mostly because none of them had brought it out of him before. Never before had he experienced any lack of self-control in the bedroom whatsoever, always being the one in control of the situation. These new… disconcerting impulses he had to hold back with force.

_That damn spell!_

Holding her protectively against him, he tried to ignore the insistent urges. _Pin her down- make her writhe on your cock-stake your claim-fill her with seed-make her beg-make her scream... _

_ No no, have to hold back, have to make it good._

He lowered her down on the bed, keeping himself above her on straightened arms. Her clothes, what was left of the, were in disarray and her lips were swollen from their kisses. _Irresistible. _He bent down and gave them a lick, coaxing her tongue out to play as he removed the rest of her shirt. When it was off he lowered his hips to rest on her, once again pressing his erection against the thin layer of wet fabric covering her pussy. Her hips jerked beneath his and he smiled, giving her bottom lip a sharp nip that made her gasp. Beginning a slow rocking motion, he lowered his attention to her stiff nipples, licking and suckling at one while rubbing the other with his thumb.

"Oh god..!" Her fingers stroked his short hair, holding his head and neck as if afraid that he would stop.

_As if I ever would._

The sweet scent of her arousal, the wanton sounds she made… it all conspired to drive him mad.

"Oooh! Oh please..!" Her hands were trembling, moving from his head to his shoulders, her fingers digging in like little claws. The slight sting almost made him spill against her and he raised himself up to look at her, wild-eyed. _Ready. She's ready._

His fingers found the hem of her panties and he ripped them off without preamble – she blinked up at him and he caught a glimpse of hesitation that he quickly erased with a rock of his hips. _Mistake._ Her eyes grew hooded with lust as the head of his cock slid over her clitoris, but his mind went blank with pleasure at the sensation of sliding along her slick flesh. She raised her hips in invitation and he forced himself to go slow as he pressed himself inside her.

_Agony. _

Holding her face so that he could study her closely, he mapped every detail of her expression as he claimed her. _Yes. Mine._ The widening of her lovely eyes in the darkness, the plump lips parting, the slight grimace of pain as her body adjusted to his size… _That's right, take every inch…_ finally seated deep inside her, he buried his face in her hair and groaned, fisting her hair and noting a fresh rush of wetness from below. _Interesting…_

Everything after that became erratic, animalistic, primal – he fucked her hard and deep, pushing her over the edge only to slow his movements and build it up again. The third time he joined her, barely noticing that he had pinned her wrists above her head.

"Sean!" She bit down on his shoulder, screaming into his skin as her tight flesh spasmed around his cock, demanding his seed. He roared and with one final, violent thrust emptied himself deep inside her.

It felt like an eternity passed between that moment and the next, but finally Renard rolled to the side, gathering her in his arms. She squirmed and he reluctantly pulled out of her, palming her thighs, behind, back while kissing her forehead. She curled up, hiding her face between his neck and shoulder. He let her, listening instead to her even breathing.

_Mine._ The thought was clear sharp and he frowned. He had begun to suspect there was more to the curse than he had previously thought… or more accurately, more to the obsession than the curse. His grip tightened and he felt the slight tickling of her eyelashes when she blinked so he moved his thumb in soothing circles.

_My priorities are shifting. I have to manage this carefully... _


End file.
